


Your Daddy's Car

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Character Death, Deathfic, M/M, Road Trips, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-20
Updated: 2012-04-20
Packaged: 2017-11-03 23:18:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas is an orphan, Dean is as good as. Self-destructive road trips, large bottles of champagne and sunsets occur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Daddy's Car

_Can you feel the sadness in our love, well it's the only kind we're worthy of_

_Can you feel the madness in our hearts, as the key turns and the engine starts_

 

Cas has a hundred brothers and sisters, all of them scrubbed raw little angels under orphan eyes and dark circles. Pretty Anna and stoic Rafe and laughing Gabriel. And none of them have parents but Cas still worships his daddy, a sideways grin in his head, Christmas sweaters and my-dad-knows-more-than-your-dad. They all live in a big building with prison-small windows and lights-out-at-nine and really orphanages hardly exist anymore, but theirs does and it makes them feel like the only lost children in the world. Except for Cas who still loves his family even after a million-million years of not knowing them. And except for Anna who is convinced she’d been born a fairy and the real Anna is forever-young in a mushroom ring somewhere. 

At school Anna is the weird girl that people whisper about and Cas watches her carefully because there is some small part of him that wants to be like that too. She seems free and smiling and maybe not _quite_ happy, but as close as Cas has ever seen any one of his siblings because even Gabriel’s eyes are sad. Cas isn’t weird enough to be the weird boy, no one whispers about him because they’d have to know he was there. Too quiet and confused and indifferent to all that stuff about _social interaction_ , it doesn't matter anyway. So he watches Anna and he watches Dean Winchester, the charismatic everything-Cas-isn't, brown leather jacket wearing new kid. He arrived with his younger brother Sam almost a year earlier but still hasn’t managed to shuck the title of _new_. Cas watches him because he seems so planned out. This carefully constructed rebel with a crooked smile and wink for the girls and tilted chin challenges for the boys. Pop culture references and nothing phased him. Funny too because Dean lives in a gated, grass-is-always-greener, take a minute to smell the goddamn near perfect roses too, community. With meant-for-great-things Sam and their always, _always_ working father. Cas knows this because he actually talks to Sam who is kind of horribly tall and serious and likes to talk because he thinks it will save his brother somehow. But also because Cas is quiet in a way that makes you feel like he is listening, and he is silent in a way that makes you think he could fix everything even when his tie is crooked which is _always_.

So Sam is Cas’ almost-friend. The only person he speaks to that he doesn’t live with. And he learns as much about Dean as he can with wide-eyed innocence and simple questions that are asked with genuine curiosity because he enjoys talking to Sam too. Dean will probably hit something if he finds out his life is a topic of interest to a tired eyed boy who always looks the same, older and younger than anything all at once, but Sam doesn’t quite twig to tell because someone loving his brother is just common sense, and Cas doesn't think it matters because his interest is inexplicable anyway. Some point of similarity amongst a world of difference. And then there is the bit that Cas _never_ mentions because it is just a quiet thought that isn't even fully formed yet and that is that Dean has green eyes and who the hell has green eyes in _real life_?

Everything happens because of Sam really, because of genuine concern and a frowning question and the only topic Cas ever broaches about himself.

“Why don’t you find him? Your dad?” It has never occurred to Cas to step outside of his beds-in-a-row life, to ask for this thing because he’s always just assumed it existed anyway. In his mind he doesn’t need proof or a voice or a name because they don’t want him as much as he wants them, but Sam speaks so simply with his hair brushed across his face and a frown creasing his forehead. And why shouldn't Cas find his father, his whole family? A glorious reunion with those who don’t want him and daddy will teach him how to be a real boy and not this messed up, unintentionally deadpan, stranger-in-his-own-skin.

“Oh.” He says and he goes to look for Anna.

“My parents are dead.” She says simply, inspecting a graze on her knee a tear in her jeans. “My mum was always dead and I spent a long time hoping that maybe my dad wasn’t, but he was.” Her face looks warm, even in the cold morning and talking about death, pale skin framed by hair like blood and her nose wrinkled. She is so beautiful, full of something that Cas doesn't think he will ever understand. She smiles at him, “Maybe your family are looking for you too.” Even though her smile is blinding, eyes and mouth both, she isn't convincing through as she tears the grass out of the ground and grinds her heel into the dirt. Anna almost never wears shoes.

“I’m sorry about your family.” Cas is always polite. Things like that are easy, things like that have an obvious response. I’m sorry for your loss, congratulations, I’m fine, how are you? And he is genuine of course, but he never knows how to go further. He chokes on anything further like it will all end in tears and words are the lump in his throat that keeps them all back.

“I’m glad you’re finding yours.’ She gets to her feet and Cas follows. “It’s a nice thing, I imagine.”

“If I find them.”

“If you find them.” She agrees primly. He _will_ find them and there will be a reason he hasn’t heard anything for all these years, important years, life shaping years. They will start again.

He searches quietly because he doesn’t want anyone asking about it. Anna watches sometimes and she smiles sometimes but mostly he is on his own. Sam offers words of encouragement and Cas accepts them gravely and gives a few words of his own so Sam doesn't worry. He avoids the office of the orphanage because it might have real life answers that he isn't quite ready for and he picks names from his memory instead and nothing works. His shoulders dip lower and his mouth sticks grim and his hands are shaking angry. But he never thinks about giving up because he always believes that he will find something at the end. Even lies work if they’re convincing.

His last resort is Joshua. After forever searching with almost nonexistent leads, he goes to his older brother who knows everything and sees everything and is old enough to remember and understand when Cas was brought in tiny with his fingers all curled. He lives in an apartment in town and he’s the only one of Cas’ siblings who has left his address and his voice had been soft when he said _visit any time_. Cas has to go before work of course, at seven in the morning he knocks with frosted knuckles.

“You don’t have a family, Cas, not a biological family at least.” Says Joshua all gentle and afraid. He hadn't expected any of them, especially not Cas who didn't seem to care about anything. He wasn't prepared to give bad news like this, he needed a doctor’s scrubs and a clipboard, a video camera and the right lighting. “They left you and years later they were killed. You could have asked Kate, she could have told you this.”

“I didn't want to.” Cas is sullen because his skin is white hot and he can hardly get the words out. All of this was a mistake.

“I'm sorry.” Joshua closes the door gingerly and really, really hopes that none of the others come after him looking for answers. Spelling out tragedy to children doesn't appeal, and besides, he left orphans behind when he claimed this better life. At least it’s Cas and not Michael or Gabriel. Michael and Gabriel would destroy the world with knowledge, but Cas is the sort who stays quiet.

Cas finds himself at the Winchester’s before he realises that’s where he’s going. He will tell Sam and they will skip school and drink something scalding hot and Sam will understand. He will tell Dean and they will scream out their anger together. This is closer to reality. What happens is Cas finding the door locked and no answer and Sam listening to his iPod too loud while he crunches through cereal and John who is never at home. It is the garage door that sometimes gets stuck closing, only a little bit, and they always mean to get it fixed but somehow it never happens. Cas hears a car door slam, he peers under the gap and ducks through. He’s never seen the Impala before, actually no one has, black and perfect and hidden away because it doesn’t fit with suburbia. It seems like it’s from another world. He drags his hand across the dust that coats the paint, he wants to write his name in it so he will remember and so he can pretend like it’s his. But at that moment, Dean notices him. 

It’s not graceful, the way Dean propels himself out of the car. He can’t open the door fast enough to deal with his outrage and he smashes his head against the glass before the door clicks open to tumble him out. Cas can’t move he’s so shocked. If he could he probably would have bolted, skidded under the door and never met Dean’s eyes again. But he can’t because he can’t move at all.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Dean chokes out, his voice gravelled and his cheeks flushed.

“I don’t, I…” Cas stammers and then stops because he _can’t_. He stares at his hands clenched in front of him, hoping that if he stares hard enough Dean will understand that he hadn’t meant to intrude on this. Whatever this is. “My dad died.” He grinds the words out in desperation, feeling sick about the way Dean’s expression trips through anger and embarrassment and pity and recognition.

“I thought you didn't have a dad.”

“I didn’t, and now he’s dead.” And in his eyes like storms and his hands like leaves Dean recognises in Cas what Cas has always seen in him. Something similar in all their difference. And his hand skids across the dust on the hood of the car and Cas’ eyes never leave his face as the words fall from his mouth.

“You wanna go for a drive?”

Cas doesn’t know what it means, that the car is the most important thing in the world to Dean, he just sees false bravado in a not-quite-steady voice and he nods. A drive.

They will drive until it rains and the dust clears.

It is always going to be awkward, especially with Cas who doesn't really speak to anyone and Dean who speaks too much about too little. Dean turns the music up to hide his discomfort and Cas doesn't even notice. He doesn’t ask where they’re going either, he figures a drive doesn't have to have a destination. Except Dean knows exactly where they’re going and after hours of absolute silence from Cas and loud enthusiastic singing-to-the-radio from Dean, they arrive at the beach.

Cas has been to the sea once; fishing with one of his brothers, young and confused about what they were doing and can I keep a fish for a pet? He remembers salt wind in his teeth and numb hands. This beach is from a postcard. The sun shining, the waves lapping at fine golden sand and the sky is that powder blue that sinks down forever under your eyes and into your skin. Cas squints, Dean smiles.

Cas leaves the car as Dean levers back his seat and cushions his head in his hands. He says nothing, just watches this stranger make his way down to the beach, ridiculous in his overcoat and tie. He will get so much sand in his shoes, that’s blindingly obvious.

He inspects everything he comes across with a critic’s eye, trying to feel what you’re supposed to when you’re young. This shell could be the door to a castle, an ear to the ocean, mermaid’s hair seaweed. And though Cas thinks what he is supposed to think, he doesn’t feel it and he throws away everything he finds. Dean watches him like a hawk, confused because all of this was so strange, especially Cas himself, and amused because he kind of likes watching this strangeness, even if it is something sad too. Like all of this. Like everything.

Cas spends hours on the beach, combing through every grain of sand. He comes back haloed in brightest sun just before sunset and he fills the car with the smell of salt. He looks windswept and dazed, his clothing even more rumpled than usual and his eyes red rimmed. Dean can feel every movement he makes and salt overwhelms him. Cas’ mouth, his eyes, his hands and then stillness. Uncomfortable in his skin still because it quiets something. Dean bites around his thoughts and looks away.  
“It’s something isn't it.” His voice scratches out when he feels brave and Cas nods. They stare at the sunset, bleeding red and blushing pink. No perfect blue anymore just vivid slashes of colour blurring the horizon. The sun dips lower and the colours change again.

“When the sun falls past the horizon, sometimes you can see a flash of green light.” Cas says quietly, the first time he’s spoken since they left. Dean leans forward like it will be easier that much closer. This time their silence is fierce. The sun is lower now and they sharpen their eyes until they imagine they can see it moving. The sky darkens and then…

“I totally saw it.” Dean announces with certainty and Cas smiles slight at his hands.

“Me too, Dean.”

Neither of them mention the fact that they should have left a long time ago and neither of them mention the fact that they probably aren’t going to. Dean finds half a bag of slightly stale potato chips on the backseat and they eat them as dinner, passing the bag between them. Dean cringes at the sound the bag makes when it crumples because it jars him out of where they are and into thoughts of why they are. Cas tries to be as silent as possible.

They tip their seats back to sleep, Dean curled around his hands, back resolutely to Cas who stares at the ceiling until his vision blurs closed.

A window smashing wakes them and Dean is out of the car and snarling before Cas has even realised what has happened. He is covered in shattered glass and it’s still dark. Outside the wide broken window, boys that could have been Dean if he didn’t love are slick and long and deadly. One of them has a crowbar, red burning spots and smoke dangle from slack and smirking mouths. Dean is all fury.

“That was real fuckin’ stupid.” He growls and even in the car it cuts Cas to the bone. They laugh.

“Oh are you going to take us on? Or is your boyfriend gonna help. We _know you_ Winchester.” A slurred voice, and what does _that_ mean. Cas’ hand shoots to the door handle but then he remembers the keys and their attention isn't on him, it’s fixed on Dean. Carefully he slides into the driver’s seat. Dean’s fists are clenched but he can’t beat metal and he’s noticed Cas noticing. He grins wide at the gang.

“Nah, I’m gonna take you all on and you’re probably gonna cry and it’s probably gonna be pretty embarrassing but I won’t tell if you won’t.” He purrs and Cas almost drops the keys. The boys lunge and Dean dances and Cas who has driven once before when he was ten and Gabriel taped his hands to the steering wheel, unlocks the doors and throws the car into reverse. It screeches and shudders and moves and Dean has piled through the door and he’s laughing and somehow they’re still moving and lurching out of the carpark and away.

Dean laughs forever while Cas sweats blood and swerves and shakes.

“Dicks, can’t multitask. Like chickens, they didn’t even see you.”

“Dean, I've never driven before.” 

“No kidding, pull over we’ll do this quick.”

“Poor baby.” Dean murmurs when they are back in place, his hands are sweet on the wheel. He glances with concern at Cas’ window. “Could you knock out any loose glass? You’re not cut are you?” Cas shakes his head and runs his hand across the edge of the window. The sun is rising and the air is cold and Cas feels like he’s running out of time. Anna ran away almost every month and no one looked for her anymore. She always slunk back sheepish and spinning stories about her hands full of dirty change and crumpled bills and motel room wallpaper. But everything would go back to normal with her, and soon her running away then coming back and running again was normal and it would be for any of them because Anna was the worst of them. No one will look for Cas. 

Cas is surprised when Dean doesn’t head back to town straight away, just tapes a piece of tarpaulin from the trunk across the window and keeps on.

“Where are we going?” Cas asks when it looks certain they’re not going back. Dean smirks,

“Booze.” He says and Cas nods slowly, rolling the words over in his head,

“Booze.” He echoes. “But we’re underage.”

Dean laughs like Cas has just told the best joke in the world and Cas’ frown deepens.

“Wait, you’re serious? You’re morally opposed to this or something?”

“Logistically.” Cas mutters feeling stupid and young and inept. He picks at the tape holding the window closed and waits for Dean to laugh again.

“Shit Cas, that’s not a problem. We’ll even…fuck, you can do it. No I-I got a friend, don’t worry. It’ll change your life.” And Cas is almost tempted to believe him just because of the way his hands look on the steering wheel. Hard and soft and strong. But he pushes that away with perfect parents and loving siblings and honest to God green eyes.

Dean’s friend is a middle aged man with a beard and a cap and humour in his eyes even along with the disgusted expression he adopts when he sees Dean.

“Oh what the hell do you want?” Are his first words and Dean grins pretty,

“Nice to see you too Bobby.”

“Your daddy know you’ve got his car?”

“Course he does.”

“He know you busted the window?” But Dean ignores that and strides toward the house, kind of ramshackle and wild grass. Cas slopes after him and Bobby mutters under his breath.

“Cas needs ID.” Dean announces as he rummages through Bobby’s kitchen like he lived there. Cas is stranded in the front room, which is all overflowing bookshelves. His hands dither and he settles into an intent stare at a knot in the wooden floor. He can feel Bobby watching him, he can feel just how unimpressed he is. Cas tilts his head up, trying to play brave like Dean, but his eyes are traitors. 

“Is that so? Well, Cas, what’s the rest of your name?”

“What?” Cas stumbles over his words as Dean brandishes a piece of buttered bread at him. Gingerly he takes it. Breakfast.

“Well I can’t put Cas on a drivers licence can I? Idjit.”

“Castiel Novak.” 

“Castiel? Your name is Castiel? Shit, I knew it was short for something but…”

“Shut up boy, it’s an angel’s name. Angel of Thursday I think, are your parents religious?”

“I don’t know.” Dean is glaring at Bobby so fierce that Cas looks away to hide the smile that threatens to tear open his mouth. But then he hears, really hears the words Bobby had said, the angel of Thursday. An angel. Castiel. Who would give up an _angel_? He feels sick, he feels like something is crawling out of him, terrible words that he will spit at anyone and everyone, flay their skin with his anger. He crams the entire piece of bread into his mouth to…stifle? To stop it all. Dean blinks. Bobby frowns. He has that look in his eyes, that grown up thing, all patronising understanding and fondness. It makes Cas feel worse but Bobby breaks from that quickly and shrugs his shoulders and turns away.

“You can pay for this, I assume.” He addresses it to Dean who just rolls his eyes and stalks out. Bobby makes a noise in the back of his throat, a growl like he’s letting Dean saunter out and play his games because if he snapped his fingers he could have that boy shuffling his feet and hanging his head. Bobby turns to Cas then, who is still choking down bread, his eyes streaming. But he feels better with an aching throat and burning eyes, better than the alternative.

“You don’t look like my usual clientele.” Bobby says, glancing at the coat, the tie, the fingernails trimmed neat and close, not bitten to the quick like Dean’s. “Dean’s not extorting you or anything is he?” 

“No…we’re just driving.” Bobby shrugs in bored acceptance, but he looks unconvinced. Something quiet and sad in his eyes that makes Cas wonder how he knows Dean.

Dean comes back with a fistful of cash and a determined expression. No one asks him where he’d got the money and Bobby counts it out neat, snapping the notes between his fingers. He gives Dean this long look that makes him tilt his chin and harden his mouth and Cas shoves his hands as far into his pockets as he can. But the moment passes and Bobby takes a picture and makes up birthdays and they leave with a shiny new card and an uncomfortable wave. Cas tries not to think of angels.

The liquor store is daunting to Cas even though Dean laughs about it. He makes Cas take off his tie and coat because you’ll look like the fucking picture. He hands Cas a bunch of money from the glove compartment, which is full of it, and no one says anything and Cas teeters off toward the store. Bottle of whiskey for Dean, whatever he wanted. Bottle of whiskey for Dean and whatever. He. Wanted.

Neon lights almost break him. Not bright, kind of dim and dirty and too seedy. But it’s easy, nothing happens because nothing was ever going to in a backwater, just-out-of-town liquor store. Cas emerges inordinately triumphant. Brown paper bags even, just like the movies. Bottle of whiskey for Dean and whatever he wanted. 

“Champagne, Cas?” 

“It was in the biggest bottle.” 

“You’re a class act.” Dean smirks. 

They get a motel room, backwater too, just one room thanks. Dean glares at the guy at reception when he raises and eyebrow and Cas shuffles from side to side and it only makes the man think worse. They only need it for drinking anyway, the car doesn’t work for that. They pass the bottles between them and Dean drinks the most but Cas is a lightweight. And he laughs when he’s drunk, Cas does, and it breaks Dean to pieces it’s so unexpected. Cas laughing as he holds a hand up to the light like he expects to see through it, champagne bubbles under the skin. 

Dean gets sloppy and mumbling when _he’s_ drunk and he paces and his hands move constantly. He is so earnest that Cas automatically steps back from it, but Dean wants to talk. First it’s high school, but he’s skirting, Cas can tell.

“Are we friends? I don’t know if I’m friends with anyone, they’re all such…”

“You’re new.”

“They’re dicks and I'm _not_ new.” He’s right, but Cas just shrugs. 

“It doesn’t matter though.” He points out and Dean cuts through that with a slash of his hand. 

“Exactly. It is fuck all.” He hisses, his eyes so intent Cas takes a step back. It’s like this for hours and Dean asks so many questions and Cas answers almost none of them but he laughs a lot and it keeps Dean from losing his mind a little bit. And then it gets serious and Dean’s voice changes all raw and harsh like he’s speaking through glass. 

“My dad wants me to follow in his footsteps you know?” He looks dark eyed and vicious and Cas’ whole face hurts he’s clenching his jaw so hard. This is their common ground. This is daddy issues and fixing everything. “And I don’t mean I got a choice ‘cos I don’t.”

“What does he do?” Dean laughs slurred and bitter.

“He’s fucking Wolverine, you know? Good at what he does but what he does ain’t very nice.” Cas is silent. “He’s a criminal, Cas. And I do whatever he asks me because then he won’t ask Sam. Sammy. Sam is gonna go to college and he’s gonna be a lawyer and I won’t let…”

“He will.” Cas insists, cutting across Dean before he gets scared. “He will without you too.” And something reckless behind Dean’s eyes lights up,

“I know.” He rasps out the words, his hands folding and unfolding at the pockets of his jeans. He moves closer to Cas who feels like he might breath in whatever it is, the panic and the love, the wired out of control that rolls off Dean.“You’re his friend, you know he will. He’ll get out and I’m not going back. You saw the money, you know I’m not.” Dean wavers, stumbling closer still, gripping Cas’ collar in his hands. His hands. Cas laughs. “I can drop you off somewhere you don’t….I don’t want you to come with me.” He growls into the air between them, not much, hot breath.

“I want to.” Cas is flying, an angel, his head all cracked and burned and he doesn’t know what to do when Dean keels over, slumping into him, his arms draping uncomfortably over Cas’ shoulders, his mouth pressed open against his neck. A kiss? Cas isn’t sure and he stumbles and laughs and Dean shivers under him. Dean is taller, but only a little, this shouldn’t work. It’s elbows and knees. Dean keeps moving forward and Cas keeps moving backwards. His mind is falling to pieces. He wants Dean to tilt his head up and he wants to push back with everything. But he doesn’t, his hands dance because he doesn’t know what to do with them. He paws at Dean’s hair, he pulls him closer and Dean does nothing, just blinks his eyes closed, eyelashes brushing across Cas’ skin. And he bolts out of it soon enough, groping for his whiskey and staggering away. Cas laughs because it makes Dean smile and hiccoughs because the bubbles are dancing behind his eyes.

They fall asleep before it’s dark, Cas first, curled up around his bottle of champagne because that was just how he’d fallen. Dean crawls onto the bed later and for a moment he sits, swaying slightly, eyes unfocused but fixed on Cas. He stretches out and carefully, so carefully, he fits himself around the other, draping his arm across his waist, burying his face into his hair. He wouldn’t do this in real life, outside of their motel bubble. Cas still smells like salt, and sweat, and alcohol. 

They wake up together once, Dean’s eyes glow and Cas is scared and it’s the only time they will ever kiss. Dean pulls Cas to him, his fingers burning at the base of Cas’ neck, and it’s messy and hot and hot and not enough but enough. Dean kisses like he’s dying, driving himself against Cas with everything and all Cas wants is to be closer. Closer than layers of clothing and skin and something else blocking everything. Dread and dread and dread. But Dean drags his mouth, tongue, teeth away and Cas growls into a pillow and the next few hours are a blur of nightmares and need.

When they wake properly it’s dark and they’re still half drunk which Dean fixes by chugging most of the remaining champagne and tossing the rest to Cas. It feels like the end, Cas knows this. Dean is manic.

“We have to go, we have to go, we have to go.” He’s mumbling. Cas nods and shoves the bottles into a plastic bag. Dean is out the door in seconds, Cas trailing behind like he’s on a leash. He is, they’re chained.

Dean drives fast down the long straight roads out of town. The rain starts almost immediately, hard and heavy and Cas tears open the plastic on the window and lets it all in and they laugh and choke on it. It’s like a storm. Cas’ eyes.

There’s no lightning because that would be too obvious and the tree is just a darker shade of night. Enormous up ahead. The biggest thing in the world. Dean’s foot is pressed to the floor and the Impala growls.

Cas struggles for words like he always has, but Dean shakes his head and they don’t matter anyway. They are inadequate. The rain from the window makes it impossible for Cas to know when he starts crying. Dean’s eyes are blank on the road. Green eyes. Impossible.

“How ‘bout it.” Dean grinds out between teeth gritted with feeling and all Cas can do is nod and hope Dean can see it. Dean gropes for Cas’ hand and grips his wrist so tight it hurts. The car, the impala, the most important thing in the world, the fastest thing in the world, Dean’s foot on the floor, Cas’ eyes shut tight and their fingers tangled and there is only a storm and blacker than darkness and the twisting of metal and then nothing.

They will be angels, Castiel thinks. They will be angels.

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a song by The Divine Comedy called Your Daddy's Car where, basically this exact situation happens. It's a good song, you should listen!


End file.
